Little Earthquakes
by Finite Infinitely
Summary: Life is an earthquake, Romeo is a jerk, and love is a rollercoaster. I think I'm going to be sick.
1. The One with the Abominable Snowman

Sometimes I tried to imagine what my life would be like _without_ Derek.

Tried is the key word here, because forgetting Derek's unfortunate existence was about as easy as ignoring a 9.0 Richter magnitude earthquake. I wouldn't say Derek himself was a full-out 9 on the Richter scale though. No, he was more like a series of little earthquakes—small enough that you didn't see them coming, but with just enough force to turn my world upside down over and over again.

***

There is no sound more awful than the sound of your own alarm clock. Especially when it's going off at 7am on a Monday morning.

I was dreadfully tempted to hit snooze and sink back down into my pillows, but knowing full well the competition that awaited for the bathroom, I managed to motivate myself to get up. I yawned as I shuffled out of my room. Hopefully the hot water from the shower would wake me up a bit more.

A quick scan of my surroundings confirmed my hunch that I was the first one up. The coast was clear. Or so I thought.

I was literally halfway into the bathroom when Derek came bounding out of nowhere, shoving me backwards and slamming the bathroom door in my face.

"_Derek!"_ I yelled, banging on the door. "I was just about to go in there!"

"Too slow Case!" he yelled back, the satisfaction annoyingly clear in his voice.

I continued banging on the door, even after I heard him turn on the shower. I probably would have stayed there all morning, banging away, had Lizzie not emerged from her room and asked me what I was doing.

"Trying to knock some sense into Derek's egocentric head!"

"Right…" Lizzie said, giving me a strange look before returning to her room.

***

30 minutes and a much shorter-than-I-had-originally-intended shower later, I made my way downstairs to find everybody already eating breakfast—everybody except Derek that is.

"Morning Casey," my mom greeted me as I entered the kitchen.

"Morning," I replied somewhat unenthusiastically, opening one of the cupboards. "Where's all the cereal?" I asked. There were only too boxes left—a dusty-looking box of some fibre-crazy flakes that had never been opened and Derek's cereal.

"Sorry, I'm going to the grocery store this afternoon," she said, leaving the kitchen. "There's some bread on the counter if you want to make toast."

Ordinarily, I would have followed up on her suggestion; however, this morning I found myself reaching for Derek's cereal and helping myself to a large bowl. Edwin and Lizzie gave me wary looks, but I ignored them. Unsatisfied when I didn't empty the box, I moved to dump the rest of the cereal down the garbage disposal. Now Edwin and Lizzie were looking at me like I'd just voluntarily locked myself in a cage with a wild tiger.

Setting my shoulders back, I took a seat at the breakfast table and proceeded to take a mouthful of the cereal. To be honest, it wasn't all that good—way too sugary and about as nutritious as a piece of cardboard. Just the way Derek liked it.

It was at that moment that Derek himself came strutting into the kitchen. He made his way over to the cupboard, took out his cereal box (I'd left it in there for his enjoyment), and attempted to pour some into a bowl. When nothing came out, he gave it a shake, but there was no denying it. It was empty.

He spun around to face us, his face angry. "Alright, who ate my—" He paused upon sight of my bowl. "Casey!"

"Too slow Derek," I chirped, mimicking him from before. "Looks like I got the last bowl."

"Well you didn't have to chuck the rest down the drain," Edwin noted.

"Edwin!" I said.

"_Nobody_ eats my cereal," Derek insisted, glaring at me. He didn't even seem to care about the fact that I'd thrown half of it away, just that I was eating it.

"Well maybe you shouldn't have stolen the shower from me this morning," I countered, matching his glare.

"Well maybe I wouldn't have to if you didn't take _hour-long_ showers!"

"I don't take _hour-long_ showers! I hardly got to take any shower today thanks to you!"

"And that's really unfortunate, 'cause I think you could have used it," he mocked, waving a hand in front of his nose.

"Oh _please_ Derek, the only person with worse hygiene in this house than you is Edwin!"

"Hey!" Edwin interjected.

"Shut up Ed," Derek said before turning back to me. "The point is Casey, _nobody _eats my cereal!"

"Honestly Derek it's just cereal! _Get a life!_"

Our argument had escalated to a volume that could likely be heard next door.

"Don't talk to _me_ about having a life! I'm not the one who spends every spare second of my day studying!"

"Well at least I don't—!"

"Derek! Casey! Enough!" George shouted, breaking up our fight. We must have drawn him to the kitchen with all our yelling. "Can't you two go one day without fighting? No, make that one _hour_?"

I bit my lip, slightly embarrassed. But really, it was Derek's fault. _He_ was the one who drove me to such childish bickering.

George grabbed his briefcase and left for work. I finished the rest of the overly-sweet cereal in silence, keeping my eyes locked on my food since I knew Derek was staring at me. I was afraid if I looked at him I would start yelling at him again.

Rising from my chair, I slung my backpack over one shoulder, making ready to go to school.

"You'll be sorry for eating my cereal," Derek said in a low voice.

I glanced over at him. He was leaning against the kitchen sink, his arms crossed casually across his chest, that infuriating smirk of his on his face.

I raised one eyebrow at him in annoyance. "What's that supposed to mean?"

He shrugged. "You'll just have to wait and see I guess."

I laughed, but it came out sounding a bit weaker than I'd hoped. It certainly hadn't been one of my better ideas to eat Derek's cereal. He just made me so angry sometimes though. Now he was going to pull some sort of prank on me.

It was only a matter of time when it came to Derek.

***

Max was waiting for me at my locker when I got to school. I smiled when I saw him. He was so sweet.

"Hey Max," I said as I approached him. "You'll never _believe_ the morning I've been having—"

"Do you have those History notes?" He asked with a quick grin, cutting me off.

"Oh. Yeah. Just let me get them out of my locker."

I undid the lock and then hesitated. Could this be a trap? Opening the locker unbearably slowly, I attempted to peer inside for potential booby traps.

"Casey? What are you doing?" Max asked, confused.

I swung the rest of the locker open, ducking for cover. Nothing. I sighed in relief.

"Casey?" Max repeated.

"I'm anticipating an act of retaliation from Derek," I explained. "Not that he has any _real_ justification for seeking revenge. I mean, it's cereal. C'mon!"

Max shook his head. "I'll never understand the two of you…And I won't understand History either is you don't give me those notes."

"Right. Sorry!" I said, handing him the notes. "Any particular reason you weren't in class yesterday?"

"Oh, you know, some football thing," he replied vaguely. "Not to worry when I have my own private tutor though." He slung an arm around my shoulders. "A cute tutor too I might add," he whispered in my ear.

As he walked me to class I couldn't help noticing some of the jealous looks from the other girls. And I also couldn't help smiling because of it. I couldn't blame them for being jealous. After all, Max was one of the most popular guys in school—being the school's quarterback—not to mention he was good-looking, sweet, and didn't sneeze deliberately in my food like some _other_ guys I knew. He was pretty much perfect.

Max dropped me off at my Biology class with a quick peck on the cheek. Did I mention how sweet he is?

"Hey Casey," Emily said, sitting beside me. I was in my usual seat near the front of the class. "Have you heard?"

"I'm sure I haven't Em," I replied. Nobody was on top of the gossip like Emily. "What is it?"

"Daryl Chase is throwing a _huge _party tomorrow night!" she exclaimed with excitement.

"Who's Daryl Chase?" I asked.

"Some guy. I don't know. Who cares? _Everybody's_ going to be there! We _so _have to go Casey!"

"I'll see."

"What do you mean 'you'll see'?" Emily demanded almost frantically. "Casey, did you not hear me correctly? _Everybody's _going to be there!"

"I've just had a long week is all."

"Oh you're going, alright."

I gave her a mocking smile. "You seem quite sure of that."

"When I'm done convincing you, you will be too," Emily replied smoothly with a smile of her own.

I bit back a sarcastic reply as the teacher walked in. He had our tests in his hand. I fidgeted nervously in my seat. Getting a test back was almost worse than writing the actual test. I clasped my hands together in front of me and waited as patiently as I could while the teacher wandered around the class passing the tests back to the other students.

"Don't look so nervous Casey," the teacher said as he handed me my test. "You did excellent."

I looked down at it.

99%.

I sighed in relief.

Emily noticed and rolled her eyes in irritation. I ignored her and began flipping through my test. There was only one mistake. I'd accidentally put "anaphase" instead of "metaphase." I felt a twinge of disappointment. Hate me all you want, but there was something unsatisfactory about a 99%. Knowing you were _that_ close to being perfect. That that one little mistake cost you everything. That you _almost_ had 100%.

I'm not saying I wasn't happy with the mark. But when you're a perfectionist, these kinds of things bother you. Trust me.

When the bell rang I was reluctant to leave class, and not because I was so enthralled by the marvels of seed dispersal. I crept up to the door with all the wariness of a police officer sweeping a crime scene and attempted to crane my neck around the corner to peer out into the hallway.

"Casey, what are you doing?" Emily asked, looking at me strangely.

"Do you see Derek?"

She glanced quickly up and down the hallway. "Nope."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes! Now will you stop acting like you're in some action movie?"

I smiled sheepishly and followed her out the door. Better safe than sorry.

***

Lunchtime rolled around and I found myself seated across from Max in the cafeteria. I was about to take a large bite of my cucumber sandwich when I paused. Lifting up the top slice of bread, I examined the contents of the sandwich suspiciously. Still nothing.

"Casey, would you relax already?" Max said through mouthfuls of pizza. "Derek's not even here."

He was right. Derek was nowhere to be seen.

I was in the middle of basking in the beauty of this realization, when who should happen to enter the cafeteria but Derek himself. I narrowed my eyes as he strutted his way through the tables with all the cockiness of somebody who genuinely believed the world revolved around him. Seriously, all the moment needed was some slow motion and a wind machine.

He sat down at a table with some of the other guys on his hockey team, flashing a grin at a trio of fake blonde-haired girls who looked to be clones of one another. The girls erupted into a fit of squeals and giggles. I rolled my eyes. Derek had that sort of effect on girls.

Except me of course.

***

"Derek, can I talk to you for a moment?" I asked through gritted teeth.

He was sitting in his usual chair, watching TV with Edwin and Lizzie, and gave no hint of having heard me.

"Derek?" I repeated, louder this time. There was still no acknowledgement of my presence. Getting frustrated, I marched up in front of him until I was most definitively blocking his view of the TV.

He sighed. "What do you want Casey?"

"I know you're planning something," I said in an icy voice.

"Why do you think that?"

"Because I _know_ you Derek—you thrive on making my life miserable. You're not going to just let it go. You said I'd be sorry."

"Well, are you sorry?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

I thought about it for a moment, remembering Derek's furious expression when he'd discovered I was eating his cereal. "No," I admitted, smiling to myself.

Derek scoffed at my response. "You will be."

***

10:42PM and still nothing. I'd spent the rest of my day creeping around the house cautiously, treating everything as a potential trap. Food, toothbrushes, doorways—they all posed a threat.

I'd enlisted Edwin to try and trick Derek into revealing what he had planned for me, but Derek had simply warned him he would plan something for him as well if he didn't leave him alone.

I plopped down onto my bed with a large sigh. I felt exhausted. I'd been on edge the entire day.

_And for what?_ I asked myself. Nothing—not one little prank. He'd said I'd be sorry, but at this point all I was sorry for was that I'd gotten so worked up over the whole thing.

_That's it! _Really, despite being a straight A student, I could be pretty stupid sometimes. And to be so fooled by a moron like Derek. Well, that was quite unforgivable actually.

It was so obvious! He hadn't planned anything at all. He'd let me go through the whole day like some crackpot afraid of her own shadow. He'd let me drive _myself _crazy. So simple, yet so effective.

I pulled my bedcovers over myself. Well that was that. Turns out I'd had nothing to worry about from Derek all along. I shook my head at my foolishness and fell asleep with a smile on my face.

***

The next morning I made sure to get up a little earlier so as to beat Derek into the bathroom. I heard him pounding on the door about halfway through my shower and I made sure to take a little extra time (than perhaps necessary) to rinse my hair.

I emerged from the bathroom with a self-satisfied smirk. I was slightly unnerved to find Derek wearing a similar expression. What it was he had to be satisfied about I hadn't a clue though, so I let it go and went into my bedroom. I had donned a brand new sweater along with my favourite pair of jeans, and was feeling pretty good when I grabbed the hairdryer off my dresser and turned it on.

Baby powder.

It blasted out of the hairdryer. An explosion of white that went everywhere.

I turned the hairdryer off, coughing. It was in my mouth, in my eyes, all over my hair, on my clothes. In short, I was the abominable snowman.

Baby powder in the hairdryer. I was so in shock that it took me a moment to notice the laughing. I turned, my face as white as a ghost (literally), to see Derek nearly having a heart attack in the hallway from the force of his laughter. Edwin was behind him, laughing equally hard.

"What's going on?" Lizzie asked, coming out of her bedroom. She took one look at me and started cracking up along with the rest of them.

I gave Derek the dirtiest look I could muster, but the effort caused me to sneeze, which only evoked more hyena-like laughter from the bunch. I swiped my hand once over my powdered face, then spun around and slammed the door to my bedroom.

He'd won this round. I'd give him that. But this was life with Derek. And life with Derek was a never-ending war.


	2. The One with the BananaShaped Shrub

**Author's Note: **

**Casey may seem a little out-of-character in this chapter, but I tell you this: Alcohol is a vile substance that makes smart people do stupid things. **

**Feedback is greatly appreciated!**

* * *

Kisses.

Max's hand slipped down my back.

More kisses.

I was pushed down onto the bed. He undid my jeans, not even bothering to try my shirt first.

_Here we go again_, I thought. It was always the same these days: kissing, pleading, wandering hands—followed by some sulking on Max's part when I didn't do the thing he kept begging me to do. He'd feel frustrated, I'd feel safe, and then he'd leave and come back the next day ready to start the routine all over again. It was almost starting to get a bit…boring.

_No it wasn't! _What was the matter with me? Max was perfect. I _loved _him.

He was on top of me now, fumbling with my bra and yanking at it a little too roughly. If there was one thing that had become different with the routine, it was that Max seemed more urgent lately. When he looked at me sometimes, it was almost like he wasn't really seeing me. I couldn't explain it.

"Mm…no Max," I said at last, squirming away.

"Ah, c'mon Casey," he whispered teasingly into my ear. The clasp popped open on my bra.

"No Max," I repeated, a little louder this time. I pushed his hands away, but as soon as I did, they were on me again.

"Please Casey?" he begged, kissing my neck. "Please…c'mon Casey. Please." He'd gone back to yanking at my bra.

I tried to push him away but he clung to me. He was being very insistent today. "Not now, Max…not now…" His arms were on either side of me, pinning me down. I wished he'd stop kissing my neck. I wriggled some more, growing a bit anxious. _"Max!"_

All at once, he stopped. He jumped off me so fast it was as if I'd burned him. I sat up, but Max was already storming across to the other side of my room. When he spun back around to face me, the anger on his face surprised me.

"When then Casey?" he demanded, his eyes wild.

I hesitated, looking down at my hands, which were clasped tightly on my lap. What did he want me to say? It was the middle of the day. Mom and George would be home soon. There was always an excuse. The truth, though, was that I just wasn't ready.

I opened my mouth to tell him this, only to realize he'd already left.

***

_U cmng 2 d pRT 2nite?_

I read Max's text message and frowned. More often than not I felt like a needed a special translator to understand what he was saying. That wasn't why I was frowning though. After he'd left yesterday, I'd spent the rest of the day in tears. I'd tried calling him several times, but he'd ignored me.

When I'd arrived at school this morning, however, he'd greeted me with a kiss on the cheek, smiling like nothing had happened. When I'd attempted to bring it up, he'd brushed it off.

"Let's just forget about it, okay?" he'd said beseechingly. His indifferent attitude made me wonder whether I'd read too much into the incident.

_I dont think so, _I wrote back.

My phone beeped a minute later and I looked down at his reply:

_Suit yrslf_

Well that was easy. If only I could get off that effortlessly going to his football games.

***

Emily, on the other hand, was not so easily turned down, and at 10:47PM that night I found myself walking up the driveway of what might have been considered a cozy storybook home, had it not been for the loud music and rowdy teenagers permeating it.

"I told you it was going to be huge," Emily said smugly as we stepped up to the front door.

"You weren't lying," I replied. If I'd thought the music was loud from outside, it was nothing compared to the ear-splitting pounding inside the house. The place was overflowing, and I feared if anybody else tried to enter, people would start spilling out of the windows. Emily and I meandered through the crowd, holding hands so as not to lose each other. She somehow managed to do so quite gracefully despite her six-inch heels. I, however, suffered three collisions and nearly tripped over one couple that was apparently making out on the floor.

Everywhere I looked, people were behaving like animals let loose—alcohol being the obvious cause. It was in no short supply, and flowed freely throughout the house from one person to the next. I peered through the crowd, hoping to spot Max. I didn't care about what had happened anymore. I just wanted him to kiss me and tell me he loved me and forget about everything. Some of his football buddies were standing over by the fireplace, cheering each other on as they swigged beer, but Max wasn't with them.

Emily led me into the kitchen, where she promptly began fixing herself a drink.

"Are you going to drink something?" she asked, taking a sip of what looked to be rum and coke.

"Who? Casey Mac-Holier-Than-Thou? No way."

It was Derek. Someone he'd managed to find me in this throng of people. I couldn't say I was happy about it.

"I could drink something if I wanted to," I insisted. "I just don't want to."

"Whatever you say," he shrugged. His obvious disbelief bothered me. It bothered me to the point that I grabbed Emily's cup out of her hand and took a big gulp of her drink. I'd show Derek I wasn't such a goody two-shoes, that I knew how to have fun, that I could be _cool_.

Only problem was the drink tasted like a mixture of Buckley's cough syrup and cat pee. I gagged, my face wrinkling up like a raisin.

"_Smooth_," Derek laughed.

I looked over at Emily who had her hand over her mouth to hide her less obvious, but nevertheless recognizable laughter.

"Do you think you could go get lost in the crowd Derek?" I asked irritably, the awful aftertaste of the alcohol still in my mouth.

"My pleasure," he replied, leaving the kitchen and heading over to a group of girls wearing dresses that looked better sized for toddlers.

"Oh my god Casey, I think that guy's staring at me!" Emily whispered excitedly, grabbing my arm. She motioned with her head towards the back of the kitchen. Sure enough, there was a tall blonde-haired guy shooting periodic glances in her direction. He looked like he'd walked straight out of an Abercrombie & Fitch catalogue, and he knew it.

"He's coming over here," I said with a smile.

"Are you serious?" Emily squealed. "Quick! Pretend like we're laughing!"

"What?"

She burst out into a fit of fake laughter. I looked at her like she'd gone mad.

"Hey," Abercrombie said, flashing a set of eerily white teeth.

"Hi," Emily said, managing to make the word sound like it had three syllables as opposed to one.

"Are you in my Carpentry class?" he asked.

"Uh…yeah," she replied.

"What? Emily, you're not in—"

She nudged me in the ribs before I could finish the sentence. Hard.

"Great party eh?" he said, still blinding us with those teeth of his. "Let's hope they don't break the house down though."

"Yeah," Emily said, having lost to ability to make proper conversation.

"Oh I don't know, I bet you could fix it with those carpentry skills of yours Em," I said, doing nothing to hide my sarcasm, and as a result receiving another, even harder, nudge.

Abercrombie didn't pick up on any of this, but instead continued to smile serenely. I had to wonder if all that tanning had fried his brain a little bit.

"I'm going to look for Max," I told Emily.

She didn't seem to hear me, so I left her in the kitchen with Model Boy and made my way back into the main room. Amazingly, the number of people seemed to have doubled since I'd left, defying all laws of physics. I attempted to find Max, but it was like searching for a needle in a haystack.

Frustrated, I pushed my way through the crowd to go upstairs. I wanted a bathroom, but there was no telling which of the many closed doors it was behind. Swallowing nervously, I opened the first one only to discover two very naked teenagers.

"Sorry!" I squeaked, turning red and slamming the door as fast as humanly possible.

On to door number two. I opened this one a little more cautiously. It was naked teenagers again.

"Sor—"

I stopped, my heart dropping to floor.

"_Max?_"

The air seemed to have become denser, making it hard to breathe.

He was lying back on the bed, stripped down to nothing but his briefs. And on top of him was an equally nude girl I recognized from the cheerleading team.

"Casey!" he said in shock, shoving the girl off of him and jumping off the bed.

I didn't wait for him to get to me though. Instead, I slammed the door and flew back down the stairs.

I needed to get out of here. Badly. Where was Emily?

I looked around desperately, but of course it was impossible to spot anybody amongst the crowd. I felt the tears coming and pushed them back down. _Gotta get out of here, gotta get out of here._

Without thinking, I grabbed one of the shot glasses a group of guys were lining up for their next round and downed its contents. It burned like fire all the way down my throat, but eased the lump that had formed there.

Oh, where was Emily? She was probably making out with that guy somewhere. The thought of having to check the bedrooms for her made the tears surge back up and I grabbed another shot from the group of guys.

"Will you quit doing that?" I heard one of the guys say, but I ignored him. I didn't even care about the fire of the alcohol this time. It beat the empty feeling in my chest.

"Casey!" Max said, grabbing my arm and spinning me around to face him. He was panting and had missed one of the buttons on his shirt in his frantic attempt to redress himself.

"Get away from me Max!" I yelled, yanking my arm from his grasp and shoving past him.  
"Casey, just let me explain!" he pleaded desperately, chasing after me.

"Fine," I said, turning around abruptly to stare him straight in the eyes. "Explain."

"I…well…"

"Just leave me alone Max." I snapped, moving away once more.

"No wait Casey!" He grabbed my arm again to stop me. "It was a mistake! I didn't mean for it to happen!"  
"You didn't _mean_ to go into a bedroom and take off all your clothes…_and hers?!_"

"It was a mistake! I never thought—"

"Just go away, okay Max? I don't want to see you! Can't you understand that?" I yelled, wrestling out of his grip and storming away. Thankfully he didn't follow.

Once free of him, I found the alcohol catching up with me. My head was beginning to feel a little fuzzy. Not fuzzy enough though. I felt like everybody was watching me, looking at me like the poor sad little girl that I was who had just had her world come crashing down around her.

I rushed into the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of something, dumping it into an empty cup. I didn't even care what it was, I just wanted to make the ache go away.

The burn of the alcohol was becoming less noticeable now. I liked the warm feeling it was giving me, liked the way the room was starting to spin. I filled my cup for the second time. Or was it the third time? I couldn't remember.

I thought about walking in on Max, but this time instead of seeing him and the girl on the bed, I noticed the hideous pink wallpaper and floral curtains of the room, and something else. On the wall. There had been pictures of…cows. Not just one or two, but dozens, splayed across the room. White cows, brown cows, cows with firefighter hats on. I was pretty sure I had even seen a picture of a cow wearing a tutu.

I started laughing to myself, causing the people around to give me strange looks. That brought me back to reality in a dizzying rush, and any temporary humour I'd found in the incident quickly vanished, replaced once more with the hollow aching feeling in my chest. I took a swig of my drink, wanting it to be funny again. It wasn't working though—all I could see were Max and the girl on the bed, naked and kissing.

I slammed my cup down on the counter, causing the contents to slosh everywhere. I walked—or stumbled more like it on account of the floor which was now swinging back and forth under my feet—into the dining room. I wished I knew where Emily was. She would know what to say, know how to make me feel better.

It was then I got the notion in my head that if I got up on the dining room table I'd be able to see her amongst the crowd. I climbed up awkwardly onto the table—it was a surprisingly difficult task. Once on top, I stood up carefully.

If I'd felt unbalanced on the floor, it was like I was standing on one leg up here. The people below felt far away, as if the table was 10 feet high instead of three. I searched for Emily, but all I could see were people I didn't know.

"Woo!" someone shouted. "Let's see a dance!"

I realized he was yelling at me.

"C'mon!" another person cried, but I continued to stand there like an idiot.

The music was turned up louder and I felt the table shake as more people climbed up top. They started dancing, making the table wobble even more.

"Whatcha' standing there for?" a girl asked, grabbing my hips and moving them along with hers.

I was about to pull away from her when I realized she was also one of the cheerleaders from school. Something changed in me then, and I started dancing with her, making the guys in the crowd cheer and whistle.

"_Casey?!"_ I heard one guy yell in astonishment.

I turned to see who it was, but lost my balance and went tumbling off the table. I landed on the floor with a force that should have hurt more than it did, inciting an audible "ohhh" from the crowd. I groaned and shut my eyes.

"_Casey?!"_

I wished that guy would stop saying my name like that. It was really rather annoying. It was at that point I realized who it was, and groaned a little louder.

"Go away Derek," I moaned.

"Casey, what were you doing?" he asked. He sounded utterly bewildered.

I tried to stand up but the floor kept moving under me. When I finally got to my feet, I almost fell over again except that Derek caught me around the waist. He let go of me and I teetered there like a seesaw.

"Wait…" he said slowly, realization dawning on him. "Are you _drunk?_"

The idea seemed completely impossible to him, and come to think of it, me too. Me. Casey Macdonald. Drunk. It was so absolutely preposterous that I started to laugh hysterically.

"Okay, you need to get home," he said, talking to me now like I was a child. "Where's Emily?"

"Probably fixing the deck out back with Abercrombie Boy," I said, laughing at my own joke.

Derek raised one eyebrow. Apparently he didn't get the joke, although I couldn't understand why.

My foot slipped out randomly from under me. I seemed to have lost control of my own limbs. Derek caught me once more.

"Guess I'll have to take you then," he sighed impatiently.

He started leading me through the crowd. It was taking a long time to move. Maybe it was because I kept waiting for the crowd to magically part and let me through, like Moses and the river. I didn't get why that wasn't happening.

"Hurry up Casey," Derek complained, grabbing my wrist and dragging me to the door.

I followed him out the door to the front yard and wrapped my arms around myself. Had it been this cold outside when we'd arrived?

"Stop running Derek!" I grumbled, staggering to keep up with him as he headed towards his car.

"I'm not running," he called back and indeed he wasn't. How was he so fast then?

When we got to his car I stopped and put a hand up.

"Wait Derek," I said in a very serious tone. Or at least, I hoped it sounded serious. "I can't allow you to drive after you've been drinking."

"You're one to talk," he scoffed. "But relax Casey, I haven't had anything to drink. I have practice tomorrow."

"What if I don't believe you?" I challenged.

"Then I guess you can stand out here in the cold for the rest of the night," he replied, getting into the car.

I decided I believed him and got into the car as well. I barely had my seatbelt on before Derek was zooming away. I couldn't say I was too pleased about the speed of his driving, but I was happy to see the last of the house and its cow-defaced bedrooms.

"Did you know that cows have four stomachs?" I asked Derek conversationally.

Derek gave me a sidelong glance. "No, I didn't know that Casey. How much did you have to drink tonight anyway?"

"Cows are sacred in India, you know. I don't really understand why somebody would want to worship a cow, but who am I to judge?"

"Alright, never mind," he said, in a "you're crazy" kind of tone and returned his attention to the road.

"I caught Max cheating on me," I said all of a sudden.

Derek didn't take his eyes of the road, but I saw his brows furrow. On the one hand, it felt good to say it out loud, get it off my chest. On the other hand, I felt the aching feeling creeping back and I wasn't ready to face it—not yet.

"Casey, I'm—"

"Oh my god! Did you see that?" I yelled, rolling down my window.

"See what?" Derek asked, confused.

"That guy had a top hat on—a top hat! Who even wears those nowadays?"

"Okay…?"

I stuck my head out the window. "Hey!" I shouted a guy and a girl walking down the street. "Your shoe's untied!"

They looked around puzzled to see who had shouted at them and I saw the guy glance down at his shoe. Seconds later we'd driven past them.

"Casey! What are you doing?" Derek hissed.

"Do you have any Grey Poupon?" I yelled at another guy waiting at a crosswalk.

"Cut it out Casey!" Derek said, yanking me back down into my seat. He was half laughing though.

"Oh my god, I love this song!" I exclaimed, jacking up the volume on the stereo. It was "Low" by Flo-Rida. In truth, the song was mediocre, but for some reason it was hitting all the right notes with me tonight. Probably any song would have.

I started singing along to the music loudly, dancing like nobody was watching.

"You are crazy," Derek shouted above the roar of the music, but he appeared amused.

He turned the music down as we rounded the corner to our neighbourhood.

"What'd you do that for?" I whined. I'd just been doing my best Shania Twain "I Feel like a Woman".

"Do you want to wake up the whole neighbourhood, including Dad and Nora?"

I wrinkled my mouth to keep from protesting. He pulled the car into the driveway and turned off the engine.

"Now just be cool Casey," Derek told me. "Dad and Nora should be asleep."

"Right," I nodded. "Cool. I can do that."

"Okay."

He got out of the car quietly and I attempted to follow suit, but the moment my feet touched the ground outside I went careening over in what might have been considered a half-somersault.

Derek ran a hand over his face. "Way to be cool Casey," he said through gritted teeth.

He yanked me up but I fell down again. And likewise the second time. Frustrated, he put a hand on either side of my waist and started walking behind me, guiding me forward like one might help a baby learning to walk for the first time. I kept stumbling and falling back against him.

We were almost at the front door when I stopped and turned around to Derek.  
"Let's prune Mrs. LeBeau's shrub into the shape of a banana!" I suggested excitedly, putting my hands on his shoulders and bouncing up and down.

"Shhh Casey," he whisper, laughing a little despite himself. "Did you hear _anything_ I said in the car?"

"Oh. Right. Cool. Everything's cool."

He opened the door carefully. "Okay, now keep quiet," he said in a low voice as he led me inside the dark house.

"Where's the dog?" I asked in an equally low voice.

"We don't have a dog Casey," Derek replied patiently.

The lights flicked on suddenly to reveal Mom and George standing outside the kitchen.  
"Dad! Nora!" Derek exclaimed in surprise, although I could hear the dread in his voice. "You're awake!"

Mom's eyes flicked down to his hands which were still on my waist, supporting me. He saw her looking and let go of me abruptly so that I almost fell over again.

"You guys are home earlier than I thought you'd be," George remarked.

"I thought you were coming home with Emily, Casey," Mom said.

"Abercrombie" was my only reply.

"What?" Nora asked.

"Um, Casey's just a little tired," Derek explained quickly. "I think I'll take her upstairs."

"But I'm not tired," I said laughing more than necessary. Mom and George gave me twin suspicious looks. Derek grabbed my arm to try and lead me towards the stairs, but I tripped over the dog and fell over.

I scrambled to my feet, grasping the coat rack for balance. Derek had his hand over his face in what appeared to be defeat.

"Casey have you been drinking?" Mom asked in angry disbelief.

"No…" I replied, but it was so obviously a lie that I started laughing again.

"I can't believe this," Mom said through gritted teeth. She was clearly furious. "I didn't think you this irresponsible Casey, but apparently I was wrong."

I could tell she wanted to say more, but seeing as though I was hanging off the coat rack now, she must have thought it futile for the moment.

"Thank you for taking her home Derek" George said.

"We'll talk in the morning," Mom told me with a glare.

Derek laughed. "The only talking she'll be doing is hunched over the toilet."

They didn't laugh back.


	3. The One with the Headache from Hell

For a moment I actually believed there was an elephant outside my room.

Then I realized it was four elephants—four very loud, very annoying elephants that had apparently gathered all the pots and pans from the kitchen and were banging at them like they were John Bonham.

I shot up out of my bed, the covers flying, then immediately regretted it on account of the wrecking ball inside my head. I groaned and the rock stars outside must have heard because their banging got louder. This seemed to fuel the wrecking ball as it pounded about, making me wish I could reach inside my head and yank my brain out. _Worst headache ever._

I sank back down into my bed with a moan, and probably would have laid there for the rest of my existence had it not been for the sudden wave of nausea. Jumping up out of bed, I bolted out of my room, nearly knocking Lizzie over who was drumming away on a stew pot.

I made it to the toilet just in time to be extremely sick—everything in my body, down the toilet. When it was over, I pulled myself to my feet weakly, clutching the bathroom counter for support.

I was barely standing for a second before the nausea surged back in a wave that surfers can only dream about. If I'd thought everything was gone, I was extraordinarily mistaken. Apparently unsatisfied, my body was now expelling itself. I wouldn't have been surprised if there were a few organs that came up in the process.

I flushed the toilet with a trembling hand but couldn't bring myself to stand up again.

"How you feeling champ?" I heard Derek say with a sneer.

I looked over at him with bleary eyes. He was leaning against the bathroom door, arms crossed, smirking in pure, unadulterated pleasure.

"Am I going to die?" I asked feebly and not entirely joking.

Derek laughed. "That's what happens when you drink more than your body weight in alcohol."

I groaned.

"Oh and by the way, you're in deep shit."

I looked at him, momentarily confused before it all came rushing back—the table dancing, Mrs. LeBeau's banana-shaped shrub, Mom and George outside the kitchen, and Max. Max in his underwear. Max lying on the bed. Max kissing another girl.

I groaned some more and then threw up again.

_"Casey!"_

My mom was calling from downstairs. So much for going back to bed.

The drum quartet saw it fit to congratulate my success in managing to stand up without vomiting by engaging in their loudest banging session yet. I put my hands on my throbbing head, willing to yank my hair out if it would make the pounding stop, and ran down the stairs.

I made it to the kitchen to find Mom hunched over the stove, her back to me. I dreaded the angry glare and equally angry voice that was imminent. She kept me waiting though, her back turned, until the anticipation was almost unbearable. Yet when she finally did turn around there was no angry glare, but rather a dazzling smile. I frowned in confusion.

"Casey!" she said sweetly. "Have a seat, I made breakfast."

I wavered for a moment, and then took a seat hesitantly. This was strange. Very strange.

"How are you feeling?" she asked in that same sweet voice.

I was still suspicious, but opened my mouth to answer the question nonetheless. It was at that moment, however, that the most awful, high-pitched, ear-bleeding noise let loose from the laundry room.

I put my hands over my ears, which did little to block out the painful shriek. "What is that?" I yelled over the noise.

"Oh George is finally fixing the hinges on the back door," Mom explained pleasantly, still smiling. "About time, don't you think?"

I looked over, and sure enough, there was George, electric drill in hand.

"I asked him to do all the doors in the house while he was at it," Mom continued.

I wanted to cry from the pain in my head. He might as well have been drilling directly into my skull it hurt so badly.

"What's wrong Casey?" Mom asked innocently, her smile having transformed into something more of a leer. "Here, have some breakfast. I made it especially for you—gooey, runny eggs and greasy extra-buttered bacon." She put the plate down in front of me. One look was all it took to send me bounding out of the chair and running back to the bathroom.

"You're grounded by the way!" she called after me.

***

_Sry_, the text message read.

I resisted the urge to throw my cell phone across the room. It was Max's fifteenth text that day. I wished he'd give up already. He could say sorry all he wanted, it wouldn't take back what he did, wouldn't make the memory of it stop flashing past my eyes every time I closed them. I felt fragile, ready to break into tiny little pieces at a moment's notice. Pieces I didn't know if I'd be able to put back together.

When my phone started ringing, I lifted it up, ready to hurtle it at the wall, when I noticed it wasn't Max calling.

"Emily?" I said, answering the phone.

"Casey!" Emily exclaimed, as if she were surprised to hear that it was in fact me on the other end of the phone. "What happened to you last night?"

"I should ask you the same thing," I grumbled.

"I heard Max…" She didn't finish the sentence. It didn't matter. We both knew the end to it.

"I'm so sorry Casey," Emily said. "I can't believe he would do that. What a—"

"Jerk?" I suggested.

"I was going for something a little stronger actually. How did you get home anyway? When I heard what happened, I went looking for you."

"Derek took me home."

"Derek? That was sweet of him."

Sweet? Derek? I wanted to laugh, but stopped myself. After all, he _had_ taken me home—a more difficult task then one would imagine, given my drunken state at the time. And he'd seemed strangely sympathetic when I'd told him about Max. I hadn't even thanked him.

Then I remembered the pot banging this morning and all nice thoughts of Derek were replaced by the usual "I wish you'd never been born" kind of ones.

"How many people know?" I asked, dreading the answer.

Emily paused. "It's a safe bet to say anybody who was at the party."

I sighed and lay down on my bed. Any energy I'd had was gone, sucked out of me in a rush that made me feel faint.

"Have you talked to him?" Emily asked after a while.

"Who?" I asked, playing dumb.

"Max," Emily replied impatiently.

"No."

"You have to talk to him."

"What if I don't?" I argued. "What if I just don't?"

"Casey—"

"Fine, I know. I have to talk to him, but can we please let it rest for today Em?"

"Alright," she agreed. "Now what's this I hear about you _table dancing_?"

"Ummmm…"

Thankfully I was interrupted by a knock on the door.

"Sorry Em. Gotta' go."

"Don't think you're getting off that easy," I heard her say before I hung up the phone.

"Come in," I said, sitting up a little straighter on my bed.

Mom walked in, closing the door behind her. I bit my lip and wondered if she'd given up her passive-aggressive stint from this morning and had come to yell at me.

"Derek told me what happened last night," she said, sitting down on my bed.

It was official. Everybody knew.

"Now I don't agree with your methods of dealing with the situation…" She paused, shaking her head in disapproval. "But I'm sorry honey. I know how much that must have hurt."

I took a deep breath, feeling the tears coming. "Thanks Mom, I'm sorry too. For everything."

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah," I replied. It was clearly a lie. I'd never been so un-okay in my life. Mom could tell I wanted to be alone though, so she accepted my response and left.

As soon as the door closed behind her, I closed my eyes, squeezing out the tears that had been lingering there. I rolled over onto my side and cried, tired of holding it in.

And with every tear I felt emptier and emptier, until there was nothing left. No more tears, no more feeling. Nothing.


	4. The One with Romeo and Juliet

Call me a nerd (Derek never failed to), but I've always liked school.

That was, until today.

News traveled fast in Thompson High. When Abby Arsenault threw up on her American History test, everybody in school—not to mention the surrounding schools—knew about it by lunch. For the rare individual who hadn't heard about what had happened between Max and I at the party, they would soon enough.

I debated faking sick, but doubted anybody would be sympathetic enough to believe me after yesterday's hangover episode. Besides, that would only be putting off the inevitable. I was going to have to face them eventually.

Getting dressed took longer than normal—not because I couldn't decide on an outfit, but rather my body seemed unable to shake off the sluggishness of sleep this morning. After yanking on an old t-shirt and a pair of jeans, I stopped to look at myself in the mirror for a moment. My skin was pale and dark circles hung under my eyes. My untamed hair drooped down in my face, curling out in all the wrong directions. If Derek had been around, he probably would have told me I looked like the girl from _The Ring_. I didn't care though, not today.

I grabbed my kitbag off my bed and went downstairs, moving slowly despite the fact that I was running late. When I reached the kitchen, the rest of the family was already there, eating pancakes.

My mom poured some more batter into the frying pan and turned toward me. I saw her eyes widen slightly at my haggard appearance.

"Casey!" she exclaimed more cheerfully than necessary. "Would you like some pancakes?"

"I'm not very hungry," I replied monotonously.

"Whoa, what happened to you?" Derek asked oh-so-empathetically upon looking up from his plate of food. "You look like the girl from _The Ring_."

"Derek!" George scolded.

"You really should eat something, honey," Mom insisted.

"Breakfast is the most important meal of the day!" Marty chipped in.

I tried to muster a smile for her. Sometimes I wished I could be Marty. I missed playing with dolls and hiding teeth under my pillow for the Tooth Fairy. I missed getting away with everything and not having to worry about my future. But, above all else, I missed believing that everything would always be okay. No matter what.

"I'll get something at school," I lied. "Besides, I'm late."

"Derek, why don't you drive Casey to school?" my mom suggested lightly, although she gave Derek a warning look that said it was more of an order.

"Fine," he replied, shovelling the last of his pancakes (and Edwin's) into his mouth. He slipped on his leather jacket as he made his way over to the front door, and seemed about to open it before stopping himself at the last minute.

"After you," he said, gesturing towards the door. Such gentlemanlike behaviour was highly unusual for Derek, but I couldn't be bothered to read into it today.

I opened the door and felt something collide with the top of my head. Less than a second later, something else hit my head, and before I knew it I was being pelted with a shower of ping pong balls. They bounced off me and went flying off in all directions like sparks. When at last the surge had ended, I looked up to see a now empty bucket hanging from the awning. I watched as a single, final ping pong ball rolled out of the bucket and hit me square on the forehead, before springing away to join the mess of other ping pong balls now littering the front yard. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Derek watching me with a small, expectant smile.

Now, ordinarily, I would have burst into a fiery rage comparable to Godzilla on a rampage—or at the very least have made a grab for Derek's neck—but the flames weren't there today. It was as if somebody had gone and snuffed out the fire within me, leaving nothing but cold, gray ash.

I took a deep breath, in and out, and then kept walking, past the fallen ping pong balls and Derek's perturbed expression.

It was as if the incident had never happened.

* * *

"Thanks for the ride, Derek," I said, as we pulled into school. I turned to open the car door.

"Casey, wait," he said, reaching for my shoulder.

I looked down at his hand, resting on the edge of my sleeve, and then up at him. I thought I caught a hint of a flush on his cheeks as he whipped his hand away quickly and started running it instead through his hair.

"Pretend like you have absolutely no idea why they're staring," he suggested with a smirk. "If you're good enough at it, they start thinking they're the idiots. Not you." He let out a little snicker at the end, but I noticed his smile quiver for a moment. I wondered if he'd dealt with a similar situation in the past. I realized there was a lot I didn't know about Derek.

"Thanks," I replied hesitantly, and I meant it. How peculiar.

He opened his mouth to say something else, but before he could, he was interrupted by one of his friends calling out to him from across the parking lot:

"Derek! You gotta' see this! Jack bet somebody $100 he would eat a Giant Water Bug!"

"Sick!" Derek and I exclaimed simultaneously, although from his excited expression I knew he meant the word in the 'awesome' sense and not in the 'horrifyingly-disgusted-and-nauseated' sense that I was going for. I didn't know what a Giant Water Bug was, and I didn't want to find out.

While Derek ran off to catch the show, I headed towards the school. As I approached the front entrance, I wondered if I'd eat a Giant Water Bug if it meant I could fast-forward through this day.

_Things must be pretty bad if you're even remotely considering eating a live insect, _I thought to myself, and I almost smiled… That is, until I walked through the double doors of the school and was confronted with an onslaught of stares.

I bit my lip and thought of Derek's advice. _Pretend like you have absolutely no idea why they're staring._

_Right._ I pushed back my shoulders and attempted to stride down the hallway with all the confidence and nonchalance of a model on the catwalk. There were just two problems with that idea: a) I in no way resembled a model, and b) I couldn't tune them out. I could feel their eyes boring into the back of my head as I brushed past them. I could hear their whispers, echoing through the halls, following me as I turned the corner. It was like they didn't think I was there, didn't know I could see or hear them.

I had become the most popular girl in school overnight, yet I'd never felt more invisible.

I gathered my books from my locker and made my way slowly to my first class: English. I glanced up at the clock in the hallway as I neared the door to the classroom. _8:58AM. _I was almost late. How had that happened? I was never late for class. _Ever._ I prided myself on my punctuality.

"Casey!"

I recognized the voice immediately and started quickening my pace.

"Casey, wait! I want to talk to you!"

I threw open the classroom door with such gusto I knocked down the teacher, Mrs. Humphrey, standing behind it. Literally.

"Oh my god!" I squeaked, my hands flying to cover my mouth in embarrassment. I could hear snickers from my classmates, but I wasn't sure if they were directed at me or Mrs. Humphrey. She had always faintly resembled Humpty Dumpty on account of her lack of neck and rather egg-shaped proportions, and this so-called 'great fall' was not making things any better for her.

"Oh! Oh my!" she exclaimed, waving her arms about wildly to the poorly-disguised amusement of my fellow classmates.

"I'm so sorry Mrs. Humpty!" I cried, reaching out to help her off the floor_. _"I mean Humphrey! Mrs. Humphrey!"

"That's alright, dear," she replied cautiously, dusting off her skirt.

I bit my fingernail and slinked away to my seat sheepishly. _9:00AM, _the clock read. Well, at least I'd managed to make it to class on time…and avoid Max.

Mrs. Humphrey cleared her throat in an attempt to regain the class's attention and whatever was left of her dignity. "Good morning class!"

Reluctantly, the other students quieted down.

"Today, we're going to be starting what some have called 'the greatest love story of all time,'" she smiled. "_Romeo and Juliet_!"

How ironic. My love life falls apart and I'm forced to read the most soppy, mushy, romantic play out there. Couldn't Mrs. Humphrey have picked something different? Like that gory one about the serial killer; _American Psycho_ I think it's called.

Yeah, that'd have been perfect.

* * *

This had to be the longest day ever. Was it really only noon?

"I just have to grab my lunch from my locker," I told Emily, "then I'll meet you at the cafeteria."

"Sounds good!" She replied, shooting a dirty look at a group of girls who were eyeballing me across the hall. Emily always had my back.

I fiddled with my lock a little longer than usual and swung open my locker, only to have something fluffy come springing out at me. I stepped back dazedly and looked up to see a pigeon—of all things—flying around. Amidst the ruckus of ruffling feathers and pigeon cooing, I was aware of several people laughing behind me. One laugh was louder and more distinctive than the rest. I turned around to see Derek leaning against a locker, chuckling in pure unadulterated pleasure.

But yet again, there was no spark, no pull to donkey punch him or stuff a bunch of pigeon feathers in his mouth to make him stop laughing. There was just nothing.

"Casey!"

Oh god, it was Max, hurrying towards me.

"I don't want to talk to you, Max," I replied robotically.

"Casey, just let me… Woah! Is that a pigeon?" He seemed a bit unnerved by the winged creature, and I took the momentary distraction as an opportunity to slip into the girl's bathroom where he couldn't follow me.

Except he did.

"Hey, get out of here!" One blonde-haired girl snipped. Another girl emerging from a stall shrieked upon sight of him and ran back in.

"Uh…sorry…" Max stammered, going red.

"You heard her. Just go away, Max," I begged, trying to stay stoic. I didn't want him to see how much he'd hurt me.

He seemed about to do what I asked for a moment, then thought better of it and grabbed my arms, pulling me towards him. "No! Listen, Case, I'm sorry."

"Sorry's just not good enough, Max," I replied matter-of-factly, wrestling out of his grasp.

"It didn't mean anything. Honest! I feel awful, Casey. What can I do to make you forgive me?"

"I don't know."

"Are we _over_?" he asked, his brows furrowing and eyes widening in plea. The look was so….pitiful…that I almost felt bad for him. Imagine that, _I _felt bad for _him_.

"I…don't know," I replied quietly, then turned away and made for the exit so I didn't have to look at him and his puppy eyes anymore.

"Casey, wait!" Max called after me. He grabbed my shoulder. Hard.

"Just leave me alone, Max," I said wearily, trying to free myself from him, but he wasn't letting go.

"Wait! You didn't answer my question!"

I opened my mouth to protest, but somebody beat me to it.

"Back off, Max," Derek said in a low voice. He was standing behind Max, arms crossed. I couldn't figure out how he'd gotten there so fast. There had been nobody around when I'd emerged from the bathroom.

Max took one look back at him and sighed in frustration. He released his grip on me and stalked away silently.

"Chicken liver," Derek scoffed under his breath as he watched Max walk away.

I looked down at my feet, feeling suddenly small.

"You alright?" Derek asked, all joking aside.

I glanced up at him, searching his eyes for some hint of humour to tell me he wasn't being serious, but I couldn't find any flippancy there. He just stared back at me thoughtfully. It was unsettling. I didn't know how to handle him when he was being like this.

"I'm fine," I replied tentatively, raising an eyebrow at him.

This seemed to shake off his sober attitude. "Right, well try not to trip and fall down the cafeteria stairs," he sneered as he strode away. "I know it won't be easy for you."

Much better. That was the Derek I knew.

* * *

Tying the legs of my sweatpants together. Food coloring in the hand soap dispenser. Smashing eggs in my bed. Derek had been trying all day to get me riled up and to no avail.

At first my lack of reaction had only made him more determined: case in point, when he went through the effort to physically _remove _the toilet seat so that I had no choice but to risk falling in and getting soaked. But with time, my listlessness had worn him down and he'd seemed to give up.

I walked into the kitchen to get a glass of water. Derek was attempting to make what I guessed to be some sort of protein shake in the blender, although I really wasn't sure how much protein was in the jujubes he was throwing in. I was about to sit down at the table when I spotted the whoopee cushion lying in plain view on the chair.

Honestly, it's as if he wasn't even trying anymore.

I sat and watched as Derek tossed in all meander of things into the blender. I began to wonder whether he was conducting some sort of science experiment rather than actually trying to make something edible.

When he'd finished his strange concoction, he pressed the button to turn on the blender, only to discover it wouldn't start. Confused, he fumbled with the ON button a few more times.

"Piece of crap," he grumbled, shaking it in the hopes that would wake it up from whatever mechanistic slumber it had entered.

When he began resorting to full out pounding of the ON button, I took that as my cue to leave and go back to reading _Romeo and Juliet_. As I made to rise, however, it was at that point that the blender reared to life at last, and I was struck square in the face with its revolting contents. It smelled like a mixture of fish oil and vomit, which I could well attest to given some of it had gone up my nose. I reached up and slowly wiped the not-quite-creamy, not-quite-crunchy goop away from my eyes. I blinked a few times, my vision clearing, bringing Derek's idiotic face into focus. To my surprise, he wasn't laughing at me, despite the fact that I now resembled a mud person. No, his face was one of utter daft astonishment. He couldn't believe what had happened, and neither could I.

And that's when I felt it: a flicker.

"Let me ask you something, Derek," I said in a slow, patronizing tone. "Did it ever occur to you to put the top on the blender _before _you turned it on?"

A bit of the slop trickled down the side of my face and ran into my ear. It was cold, but my insides were burning now.

I grabbed the tomato sitting on the counter and hurled it at Derek's head. It made a satisfying _squoosh _sound and splattered his red hair with more red.

For a moment, his stunned expression remained, then his lips curled up into a devilish smile. He reached for the tub of yogurt he'd been using for his blended monstrosity and shook it so that the yogurt flung out in an arc towards me, splashing down the front of my shirt in fabulous fashion.

After that, things kind of went bezerk.

I chucked a jug of chocolate milk at Derek, drenching him from foot to toe. He pelted me with a rain of eggs, enveloping me in sticky yolk. He followed that up by dumping a container of flour over my head that clung to the yolky liquid base and caused me to erupt into a coughing fit.

"_Ah!_ Derek!" I cried, tossing guacamole at him. I could barely see him within the cloud of colourful food.

He ducked down behind the counter, searching for shelter. I managed to get around behind him though and squirt whipping cream down his back. He wrestled the can from my grasp and aimed it at me, and then made a beeline for the other side of the kitchen, where he began sling-shotting me with overly ripe and mushy strawberries.

"Too slow, Case!" he yelled back, laughing.

That was when I knew I needed the big guns. I hauled open the refrigerator and spotted last night's spaghetti and meatballs. _Perfect. _I seized the bowl and launched its contents towards Derek. Or at least, who I thought was Derek.

"Derek! Casey!"

There was George, standing in the middle of the flamboyant catastrophe that was the kitchen, now draped in a full bowl's worth of spaghetti and meatballs.

Without meaning to, I let out a small snigger, and before I knew it I had erupted into a fit of unstoppable giggles. It was the first time I'd laughed in three days and it felt wonderful.

Rather than reprimand me, George grinned and shook his head. "I never thought I'd say this, but I'm actually glad you two are fighting again."

I looked over at Derek who was watching me intently, the corner of his mouth quirked up ever so slightly into a small smile. There was something cryptic in his eyes, I couldn't explain it.

"Now clean this up," George ordered, interrupting our gaze. He proceeded to march out of the filthy kitchen, leaving us to deal with the aftermath of what had been a most epic food fight.

I sighed, feeling a million times better. The fire was back. I felt warm and alive again.

"I'll start on the counters and you can grab the mop," I suggested to Derek.

"Or I can just watch and finish off this guacamole," he countered with a smirk.

"Derek!" I griped, making him smirk more. He was enjoying inciting my newly-regained fury.

Derek was saved from any further nagging by the doorbell. I shot him a lingering glare and sauntered off towards the front door. This wasn't over, and he knew it.

I found myself smiling as I yanked open the door. That is, until I saw who was standing behind it.

"Max," I said, stunned.

"Casey," he replied, equally bewildered as he eyed me up and down. I seemed to have forgotten I was dressed in a mountain of assorted foods.

"Derek," was my only explanation, and it sufficed.

"Right…" Max said. "Um, here." He whipped out a bouquet of flowers from behind his back and presented them to me.

"Oh."

"I know carnations are your favourite," he smiled sweetly, making my heart twinge just the slightest.

Well, actually gerbera daisies were my favourite, but it was the thought that counted, right?

"What do you say, Casey, will you give me another chance?"

I bit my lip, looking into his eyes. He did have the nicest eyes. Baby blues you could get lost in. I just didn't know if I wanted to lose myself again.

"I'll…think about it, Max," I replied. "See you later."

I closed the door with a sigh. When I turned back around, it was to find Derek standing there, arms crossed, looking furious.

"You're not really going to take that jerk back are you?" he demanded angrily.

"I don't know," I said, my voice almost a whisper.

He shook his head, not saying anything. He didn't have to. I knew exactly what he was thinking.

* * *

_I was in the middle of a field. Behind me stood a magnificent castle, both enchanting with its fairy-tale silhouettes and fearsome with its stone walls and sky-scraping towers, all at once. Before me stretched a meadow that seemed to go on forever. The lush grasses rippled in the cool night's breeze, tickling my legs. I shivered, wishing I'd worn more than just my lace dress. _

_ That was when I spotted him, standing some distance away. The moonlight shone down upon him, illuminating his soft skin. He had his back turned to me and did not know I was there._

_ "Romeo!" I called out to him with excitement._

"_Romeo!" I began to run towards him, not watching where I was stepping despite being barefoot. I didn't care. I just wanted to reach him._

_ He was so close now. I could almost touch him._

_ "Romeo!"_

_ He seemed to sense my presence at long last, and ever so slowly he turned to face me._

_ I stopped. Disappointment trickled through me as I came to recognize the man standing before me. _

_ "Juliet," Max breathed._

* * *

I awoke from the dream with a jolt, breathing hard. The disappointment that had pervaded my dream lingered still and I hugged my knees to chest, wondering who I'd been hoping Romeo was.


End file.
